Inferring Fire and Steel
by Kurozakura
Summary: This story reads between the lines of Roy and Riza's relationship as written in the manga. It starts with how Roy learned his fire alchemy, and then moves on to other events like the Ishval War, finding the Elric brothers, and the fight with Lust. [Royai]
1. Rose Colored Dreams

Inferring Fire and Steel

Chapter 1: Rose-colored Dreams

(AN) This first chapter takes events from manga chapters 57-62 and goes into more detail. It covers the history between Riza and Roy before the current events of the main storyline. This was not shown in the anime, and I don't believe I will spoil anything for those who haven't read the manga (other than Roy and Riza's history).

Dialogue in italics is taken from the manga to help the story flow for those who have not read it yet.

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I don't own any of these characters, and will unfortunately never profit from them. (/AN)

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Riza sat back on her heels and surveyed her room. Unpacking her luggage had taken almost no time at all since she had brought little for her return during winter break. Gazing at the worn wooden floor, she realized how dilapidated the house had become. Paint peeled from the walls, and she could hear scrabbling claws in the woodwork. Perhaps after graduation in spring she would oversee having the house repaired. She didn't have any other plans, after all.

She heard a car pull into the driveway and glanced out the window. A young man with dark hair stepped out, and it took Riza a moment to recognize his face. She had never expected to see him wearing a blue military uniform. She watched her father's apprentice as he walked around the house to the side entrance closest to the laboratory and office.

Her father had barely greeted her when she returned home from her boarding academy earlier that day. Still, he had told her that her grades and performance had been adequate, which for her father was quite a compliment. The usual mix of fear and admiration struggled inside her when she thought about her father. He was such a great, brilliant man, and yet his intensity and dedication to his work were a bit frightening. Riza had learned at a young age not to bother her father while he was in his office or in the laboratory. As it happened, this was nearly all of the time. On the few occasions when she had inadvertently interrupted his studies, he had turned towards her with an expression that bordered on insanity.

Part of her had been jealous when her father took on an apprentice three years ago. This unknown boy had been able to go where she feared to go, discuss with her father things that she couldn't understand, and be a part of her father's life where she was neither needed nor wanted. Her only involvement had been that one painful time two years ago.

She sighed and turned from the window. Boarding school had been a blessing, though she found she missed this strange old house with its strange old master. Walking downstairs to the kitchen, Riza set a pot of water to boiling and dug a canister of tea out of the cabinet.

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Roy stood inside his sensei's office with his overcoat slung casually over his arm.

"_So you became a soldier after all, Roy_," his sensei said quietly without looking up from his notes.

"_Yes, Sensei_," Roy replied. He unconsciously stood up a little straighter. He would never admit it, but he was proud of his blue cadet uniform_. "I thought that I would eventually like to take the qualification exam to become a State Alchemist and work for my country," _he explained

His sensei finally raised his head to turn his pale gaze towards his only student_. "As I thought, it's still too early for you to be the Flame Alchemist_," he rasped.

"_Still_?" Roy repeated with surprise_. "In the end, you've only taught me the basics of alchemy." _He hoped he didn't sound as petulant as he felt.

His sensei turned back towards his journal._ "It's a waste to teach even the fundamental concepts to someone who would degrade himself by becoming a dog of the military," _the old man grumbled.

Roy shifted uncomfortably. He knew where this conversation was headed._ "Alchemy is for the people, right? Sensei, I think that being useful to the military is linked to being useful to the people_," he said_. "Now that we are exposed to threats from the surrounding countries, strengthening the military is very important. To protect the nation, alchemy is…"_

His sensei interrupted_. "I'm tired of listening to those second-hand opinions_," the old man said sharply.

Roy wilted a little._ "Sensei_," he pleaded_, "to think if I had as much knowledge as you, it would be easy to take the state qualification. Honestly, I find it unbearable that someone of your caliber is smoldering in such destitution. If you take the state qualification and accept the issued research funds, your research would also go even father…"_

"_There's no need for that," _his sensei said, interrupting again as he set his pencil aside._ "My research was perfected a long time ago. It is the strongest kind of alchemy_." He leaned back in his chair, and Mustang noticed how sunken his features had become._ "Depending on how it's used, it can also become the most deadly. And I became satisfied."_

Before Roy could ask for clarification, the old man continued, _"Alchemists are living beings who cannot go on without seeking truth as long as they are alive. When they stop their thinking, the alchemist would die. That is why I am a human who died a long time ago_." He turned his gaze towards his apprentice

"_Please don't say such a thing_," Roy protested_. "If you would only use that power for the world…"_

"_Power_," the old man said quietly_. "So you want power, Roy?" _Suddenly, he coughed violently and a gush of blood flooded from his mouth. He fell forward from the overwhelming pain in his chest.

"_Sensei_!" Roy shouted, dropping his overcoat and hurrying to the desk_. "Sensei!"_

"_Since I saw your growth_," the old man whispered_, "with my own eyes_…" He coughed up more blood_. "I thought of bestowing it on you. What a pity. Don't have any time left to teach you…"_

"_Wha…?" _Roy asked numbly.

"_But my research_," the old man continued softly_, "my daughter knows it all. If you're saying you will use my alchemy, my power in the correct way, she will probably present the secret to you."_

Roy could barely process what he heard._ "Please get a hold of yourself!" _he cried, shaking the old man by the shoulder.

"_I'm sorry," _his sensei said in a barely audible whisper_. "I was so immersed in my research, I couldn't do anything for you. I'm sorry, Riza. Roy, I'll leave my daughter to you. Please…" _His voice faded to nothing._ "Please…"_

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From down the hallway, Riza heard a muffled shout. It sounded like the apprentice, though she couldn't make out the words. She put the tea canister on the counter and hesitantly walked towards the noise.

As she crept down the hallway towards her father's office, she could hear the apprentice shouting, "_Sensei! Hawkeye-sensei_!" Riza's hand paused on the doorknob to the forbidden room. She twisted it and opened the door silently. The scene before her left her speechless.

Her father was lying facedown in a pool of blood on his desk. Mustang hoisted one of her father's arms around his neck as if to help the man to his feet, but Riza could see that the haggard body was clearly not conscious. "_Someone call a doctor_!" Mustang shouted, his eyes wide with panic. "_Is anyone here_?!"

Riza couldn't respond. She stood staring at the two men: one young and proud in his new uniform, one old and dying in his faded smoking jacket.

"_Riza_!" he exclaimed. Her eyes met Mustang's and she snapped out of her daze. Turning back into the hallway, she ran towards the phone.

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The funeral was short, and there were more workers present to bury the coffin than mourners. Riza had no way of contacting her extended family, so it was just her and Mustang listening to the priest's brief prayers.

The cemetery seemed especially desolate in the heart of winter. The black skeletons of trees made the gray day feel even starker. The cold wind slipped around the defenses of her jacket, but Riza didn't notice. If she did, then she definitely didn't care.

She apologized to Mustang for leaving all the arrangements up to him. He dismissed her concerns and handed her a card. So he was planning on building a career in the military.

Riza smiled sadly as the young man beside her spoke about his dream for the future. It sounded so much like what her father used to tell her about alchemy. He would talk about all the ways alchemy could help the world and the power it could bestow upon individuals, and all the while his eyes would light up with passion he never displayed for anything else. She supposed it was only fitting for his apprentice to agree with such ideals, though his uniform made her doubt his real intent.

"_That dream_," she said quietly, looking down at her parents' gravestones_. "Can I entrust my back to it? Is it all right to believe in a future where everyone can live in happiness?"_

"_Entrust your back?" _Mustang echoed

"Father stopped teaching you when you told him you wanted to join the military, yet you went and enrolled at the military academy anyway," she said, turning to face him. Despite growing taller, he still had some boyish youth touching his features. "Why? What is so important that you would collar yourself?"

For a long while, it seemed he wouldn't answer her question, but as she turned to walk back towards the car he spoke. "Sensei was so talented and intelligent, he could have changed the world. But instead he squirreled himself away and hid in his books and his research. I didn't want that for myself. I wanted to use my knowledge to bring happiness to other people. I thought that by helping the military, I would be able to help the people."

She turned to study his face. His words seemed genuine, and his dream felt true in her heart. Though she had always been set apart from her father's career, in the end he had entrusted his life's work to her. For the first time, she felt that she, too, could be allowed to participate in that part of her father's life. "Please come back to the house with me, Mustang-san," she said, resuming her walk to the car. "I will show you my father's secrets."

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"Please turn around," she said.

Mustang did as he was told and stared out the window of the bedroom. When they had returned to the house, Mustang had expected to go to his sensei's office. Instead, Riza had led him upstairs to her bedroom. He supposed that hiding one's most secret documents in an office was kind of obvious, and that one's daughter's bedroom was a safer option.

"Please look," Riza said, and he turned around. He had expected her to have opened a secret panel in the floor or pulled a sheet of paper from behind a painting. Instead, she had completely stripped her upper body and now stood with her naked back presented to him. "I show you this so that you will have the power you need to accomplish your dream."

Mustang was shocked. Tattooed across her entire back was a transmutation circle. The surrounding symbols and words must have been the code needed to understand the alchemy. He took a step towards the slim figure. It barely registered that he was alone with a half naked woman in her bedroom. Hughes would have a field day if he knew.

"Does this mean anything to you?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Mustang just nodded weakly. "May I look closer?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded and turned her head back towards the wall. Mustang walked over to peer at the symbols. The text at the top was in an unfamiliar language, and he suspected it would take days to decipher the rest of the code. Vaguely, he wondered if this girl knew the extent of the power that was inscribed on her back. His finger hovered inches from her skin as he traced the figure of a black salamander.

Almost as if she could feel his touch, she shivered involuntarily. Unbuttoning his coat, he shrugged out of the heavy fabric. Riza turned halfway around with her blouse clutched to her chest. "What are you…?" she began to ask.

Mustang wrapped his coat backwards around the girl so that the tattoo still showed through the opening. "I don't want you to get cold," he said gently. "This will take a while."

She relaxed and pushed her arms through the sleeves.

"You might as well make yourself comfortable, if you intend to let me copy this," he told her.

She tensed again. "No copies," she said sharply. "My father could have easily left this on paper for you, but he chose this method and I will abide by it."

Mustang nodded. "Alright, but if I cannot make notes then it will take me days to memorize it all."

"So be it," Riza said, dragging a stool towards her desk and sitting down. "I must leave for school in one week." She opened one of the books and began reading.

Mustang pulled a chair behind the stool and tried to figure out where to begin.

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The next week passed in a blur. Because Riza still refused to enter her father's office, Mustang had to trudge back and forth carrying books up to her bedroom. After lunch, they would take a long walk to stretch their legs before returning to their studying. Sometimes, Mustang would test out new circles and theories while Riza watched from a bench in the garden.

By the afternoon two days after the funeral, Roy felt confident enough to try using the transmutation circle. He hadn't quite figured out how to approach Riza tastefully, however. They stood in the garden behind the house, and Roy had dropped a few pieces of firewood in an open clearing.

Riza watched his preparations with interest. She wore a warm sweater over her skirt and blouse, and the day was calm and relatively temperate. Mustang walked back towards her and led her around a corner of the house. She peered at him in confusion.

Mustang noticed her puzzled look and explained, "Just in case."

Her expression changed to concern, so he tried to smile confidently. "It's highly unlikely anything dangerous will happen, but your father asked me to take care of you, and it wouldn't do to injure you by accident."

She didn't look convinced of his reassurances.

Mustang cleared his throat. "Ah, Riza, I haven't been able to successfully create my own transmutation circle yet." She just nodded at him, which didn't make things any easier. "So I will have to use the one your father left."

She turned her head as if trying to look on her own back as she realized what he was saying. A light blush crept up her cheeks, but she nodded her assent and turned away from him. "Of course."

Mustang exhaled on his hand to try to take the chill from his skin, but when he tentatively reached his hand up the back of her blouse, she still shivered. He ran his hand slowly up her spine until he reached the base of the circle. Peeking around the corner of the house, Mustang tried to concentrate on the cords of wood he had placed in the open. His hand began tingling with anticipation, and he wondered if Riza could feel the power that was almost crackling around them.

From where she stood in front of him, Riza peeked around the corner as well. Her skin shifted beneath his touch and felt like velvet. Closing his eyes, he mentally reviewed the symbols on her back. He took a lighter from his pocket, flicked the sparker, and exhaled slowly.

Riza wasn't sure what she was looking for, but then to her amazement a line of thin fire streaked from the lighter to the pile of firewood thirty meters away. A thin wisp of smoke rose from one of the outer pieces, but the fire died away. She turned to look at the young man standing behind her. His face was scrunched in concentration, and he took his hand from under her sweater to run his fingers through his hair thoughtfully.

"Looks like I need to concentrate more oxygen by the woodpile," he mused to himself.

By the time the light began to fade, the air had developed a definite bite. Mustang and Riza didn't notice, however, as they stood in front of the small bonfire staring into the dancing flames. He stood with his hand on Riza's bare skin again, and he was making small wisps of fire dance through the air in convoluted patterns. The light flickered across their faces and made the shadows in the garden leap and waver.

One burst of flame had the likeness of a flower, and she turned to him with a happy exclamation on her lips. His arm remained outstretched, and as she turned under his hand, his fingers trailed along the side of her ribs. He had kept his hand so still that she had nearly forgotten they were touching, but this sudden movement felt like a match across the back of a book. They stood for a moment beside the fire, the light beginning to dim without Mustang's manipulation. She was shocked to find herself thinking how handsome he appeared with the light playing across his face. She had never even considered him in such a way before; perhaps because he was part of that _other_ world. That world of alchemy. But now, she was putting one hesitant toe across the line, and they were sharing a part of the same realm.

He tilted his head as if to ask what she was about to say, and she suddenly realized she had been staring. "I – I should go prepare dinner," she said hastily, hoping the flush in her cheeks would be attributed to the heat of the fire. She hurried back into the house and found a way to become very busy in the kitchen.

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After three days of research, he could create his own circles on a small slate chalkboard, though he refused to acknowledge that he regretted losing a reason to touch the tattoo. He didn't realize it, but sometimes while he was very deep in thought, he would trace his fingers over the part of the design that was troubling him. Riza, however, was acutely aware of this. When he leaned close to study the details, she could feel his breath warm and gentle across her skin.

Five days after the funeral, Roy was testing his new theories in the forest behind the house.

"It seems most of these transmutations are destructive by nature," Riza commented after Mustang had reduced a fallen tree trunk to a pile of ash. Huge waves of flame had licked across the entire tree, and this time Mustang had been able to control the great hiss of steam as water rapidly evaporated from the rotting wood. Maintaining control as the air heated so quickly had also proven to be difficult. "Just how will these techniques bring about peace and happiness?"

"If I can't create puppies and butterflies," Mustang said dryly, "then at least I will be able to protect and defend our country and the people who live here." Despite the winter chill, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. This form of alchemy required intense concentration, and he was covered in sweat despite only wearing a thin white shirt.

"I think it's time to go back inside, Puppy and Butterfly Alchemist, before you catch cold," Riza said, pushing away from the tree she was leaning against. She wore his uniform coat, though this time it was oriented properly. The long hem was almost as long as her skirt and nearly reached her knees. Clutching the blue fabric tightly around herself, she started back down the path towards the house.

Part of her was still stunned by the raw power of her father's research. On one hand, it explained why the house always had the faint smell of acrid smoke. On the other, how could her father devise such a violent form of alchemy without her knowing?

She turned to see the young man hurrying to catch up to her. He had a small, satisfied smile touching his lips, and she felt a bit of his contagious excitement.

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The night before Riza was to return to her school, Roy sat up late beside her bed. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus yet again. He had turned the lights down low so as not to disturb her sleep while he squinted at the now-familiar markings on her back. There was only one small portion of the tattoo that he had not been able to decipher, and he had hoped to have it all memorized before Riza departed. Not that he couldn't just as easily visit her some other time to refresh his memory. For a moment, Roy daydreamed about always having 'one more thing to double check' so he would have an excuse to see her again.

To his surprise, Roy found his time with the girl enjoyable. In the past, she had always treated him very formally and distant. Despite being Hawkeye-sensei's apprentice for two years before joining the military academy, he had rarely ever seen Sensei's daughter. She spent most of the year living at her boarding school, and when she was home, she was never seen near the office or the laboratory. For the past week, however, when he wasn't studying the transmutation circle, they chatted congenially about inconsequential things.

He told her about life at the military academy, and she laughed at the pranks he and Hughes would play on each other. They talked about dreams and aspirations and all the typical things that young adults hope to achieve with their lives.

Leaning back in his chair beside the bed, he turned to the glass of water on the nightstand. A fat lump of wax sat beside the glass to provide a reliable source of fire. Scratching the transmutation circle onto a slate board, he touched his fingers to the cold stone. To his delight, a small flame danced to life at the surface of the glass like a candle.

"Now that will be good entertainment at parties," said a sleepy voice beside him. He turned to see Riza rubbing her eyes and peering at the glass. "Was that the last technique you wanted to learn?"

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," Roy said, hastily letting the small flame extinguish.

"No, I enjoy seeing my father's alchemy," she said sitting up. His coat still looked enormous and somewhat comical on her, and the pink pajama pants didn't help the dignity of the image. She picked up the glass of water and sniffed at it. "Dare I ask?" she said, tilting her head to the side.

"Water is just hydrogen and oxygen," Roy said. "All you need is to split the elements apart."

"That sounds complicated," said Riza, replacing the glass.

"It is. That's why it's taken me all week to figure it out," he replied. He rubbed the burn on his left hand, which he had received earlier that day. For the most part, he had only attempted to transmute small amounts of water since the hydrogen was so volatile. Anything more than that would produce deadly mistakes.

"Was that the last of my father's secrets?" she asked again.

Roy nodded. "I think so, unless there is something I am missing." He twirled his hand around in what had become his unspoken request to see the tattoo.

She complied and shifted on her bed. Mustang stared at the markings in a last attempt to memorize every detail. He systematically went through every symbol. When he was satisfied, he said, "Others will see the transmutation circle when I use it, but no one else will know the meaning without this key." He tapped her left shoulder blade where the cipher for the code was hidden.

Riza nodded. "I suppose it wouldn't be very efficient to always have me next to you in order to use this alchemy."

It wouldn't be all that bad, either, thought Roy. "I bet you'll be glad to be able to wear normal clothes again," he joked lightly.

She turned halfway towards him and smiled. "Your coat is quite warm and comfortable. I will miss it."

"I'll miss seeing you in it," he said without thinking. He felt a blush creeping up his neck. "I mean, Hughes doesn't looking half as good as you do in my uniform." That wasn't much better, and the blush continued its path upwards.

She grinned at his flustering and said, "So this Hughes gets to wear your uniform, too?"

"No, I meant…," he dissolved into meaningless babble while she laughed merrily at him.

With her back still towards him, she removed his coat and pulled a sleeveless nightshirt over her head. Despite spending an entire week with her while she was mostly undressed, his mouth still went dry. She turned back towards him so that she was kneeling in front of his chair and proceeded to fold the blue fabric carefully. Finally looking up, she must have noticed him staring because her cheeks suddenly tinged with pink.

"I had a good time this week," she said shyly, breaking the silence. "Part of me feels guilty to be so happy so soon after my father's death, but after spending time with you I feel like I understand him better than ever."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "You trusted your father's secrets to me, and I can't tell you how much I am forever in your debt." Against his will, his hand reached out to brush a lock of hair away from her face so he could see both her clear brown eyes. "Please promise me you will contact me if you ever need anything."

She smiled into his coal black eyes and fancied she could see flames dancing somewhere beneath the surface. "Just follow your dream and I will be happy. My father would be proud to have you as his apprentice."

He swallowed hard and reached out to touch her hair again. His fingertips trailed down her cheek and traced a path along her jaw to her chin. When she didn't pull away, he leaned forward.

She met him halfway, because deep down each of them knew this would happen in the end, even if they weren't consciously aware of it. The kiss was gentle at first - just four lips meeting for the first time. Mustang moved the hand on her chin around to the back of her neck. His other hand snaked around her waist to lightly run up her spine.

Suddenly, a week's worth of innocent touches and exposed backs exploded into repressed teenage hormones. He coaxed her mouth open as he stood up so he could crush her body against his. She responded by running her tongue across his bottom lip and locking her arms around his neck.

Into their kiss she poured out all her sorrow over losing her father, her uncertainty about her future, her unrelenting loneliness. As they got used to the unfamiliar feeling of another's tongue, she took from him a spark of hope of all that the future could hold, the possibilities that sat just over the horizon, and finally a sense of purpose and direction. His strength and determination inspired her. Perhaps she would join the military, too.

By the time the sky began to lighten, they were no longer awkward with each other. They didn't speak afterwards as Riza laid with her head on Roy's shoulder, one arm thrown across his chest. Once the sun had fully risen, Riza tossed aside the sheet, picked up her discarded pajamas from the ground, and began to get dressed. Roy watched from the pillow as his last glimpse of her back was obscured by a white blouse. She sat on the bed to pull on her knee socks, and Roy reached out to run his hand down her back. He imagined he could feel the heat of the power that was barely concealed there.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch before gathering herself and standing to straighten her plaid skirt. She took a small suitcase from the desk and slipped quietly across the room. She gave him a last unreadable look before closing the door behind her. Roy rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling until he heard a car pull into the driveway a few minutes later. Sitting up to glance out the window, he watched the girl place her suitcase into the backseat before looking back at the house. She gave him a small wave, a finger twitch really, before leaning down into the car and slamming the door shut. And then she was gone.

-------------------

Roy grimaced when he heard someone calling his name down the hallway. "Roy! Hey Roy!"

Roy didn't break his stride as Hughes fell in alongside him. "Where have you been for the past week?" Hughes asked.

Glancing at his best friend from the corner of his eye, Roy replied, "I went to visit my sensei."

"For a whole week?" Hughes asked doubtfully.

"He died, so I stayed for the funeral." That shut up his friend, but only for a moment.

Suddenly, Hughes sniffed. "Is that you?" He leaned over and sniffed Roy's coat. "You dog, you smell like… a woman!" He cackled loudly as Roy tried to discreetly sniff his own uniform. He hadn't bothered washing it since letting Riza use it all week.

"That's pretty bad taste, Roy," Hughes said, trying to keep the smile off his face. "You shouldn't use your sensei as a cover for seeing a girl."

"It's true! He really died!" Roy protested, his face growing red.

"Liar!" Hughes crowed. "So who is she? Is she cute? Are you getting married?"

Roy hunched his shoulders and increased his pace. Once he made it to the next class, Hughes would have to stop his badgering. Hopefully.


	2. Blood Colored Disillusion

Chapter 2: Blood-colored Disillusion 

(AN) This chapter continues elaborating on Roy and Riza's past together, as alluded to in the manga chapters 57-62.

Again, dialogue in italics is paraphrased from the manga to help keep the story coherent. (/AN)

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Riza scanned the ruined city in front of her through a pair of army-issued binoculars. The area had been thoroughly destroyed and was considered "secure," but she had learned in her first few weeks not to trust that designation. Most of the soldiers and personnel were clustered within a temporary camp in the center of a square where two main streets intersected. Only a few individuals strayed from this area of relative security and out into the sea of dead bodies and broken buildings. Two men were walking further away from the swarming camp, and Riza placed her binoculars on the ground beside where she lay. She positioned her rifle in front of her and found the two figures within her high-powered scope.

Six months ago she had been taken from the military academy and assigned to a position at the front of the Ishvalian extermination. Since then, she had done things that had burned into her mind with pain unlike anything she had ever imagined. Her expertise with guns usually kept her from the direct chaos that raged through the streets, but occasionally there had been a few heated shoot outs. She had learned quickly not to look at the faces of those in her crosshairs. It was easier to believe they were all armed men trying to attack her comrades, though too many were too short or too slim or running in the wrong direction.

She preferred this self-appointed mission of sniping from the watchtowers. Technically, she was off-duty, but she often sought the solitude of these high buildings where the air was fresh out of the desert. From here, she could do what she had originally intended to do - what she had enrolled in the military academy for. She would scan the perimeter of the camp through her binoculars and use her sniper rifle to pick off any remaining enemies who threatened her comrades. From here, she could protect. From here, she could choose her targets without an officer directing her aim.

A third soldier ran up to the first two before departing just as quickly. The first two men paused while they continued their conversation, and she could only see the profile of the taller man with glasses. She scanned the area around the men, and a twitch of movement caught her attention amidst the clutter of Ishvalian robes and limbs. The two men continued talking obliviously, but Riza focused on one clump of bodies. There was an arm with a knife snaking out into the street. The arm shifted again, and a man pulled himself from beneath a pile of corpses.

He lunged at the two uniformed men, and Riza fired without thinking or blinking. Not even her slow breathing changed in its rhythm. She knew she would not need another shot, either. The two men she had saved had only just begun to react. Two more comrades' lives to make up for the innumerable number of innocents she had slaughtered. A tear against the ocean. She watched the men through her scope while scanning to see if the attacker had accomplices.

The man with glasses must have known about her, because he pointed towards her watchtower. The other man turned to follow his finger, and Riza finally got a clear view of the lives she had just saved. Her breath hitched as she stared into the face that had driven her to this place. To this hell.

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Roy was washing his face at the water pump when he heard someone call his name. He looked up with surprise because no one had addressed him so informally since he came to the front.

He turned around to see Hughes making his way through the crowd. The greeted each other like they always had at the academy and congratulated each other on their promotions. Hughes still wasn't quite sure of what to make of his friend, who had gone from being just another cadet to one of the esteemed State Alchemists.

They strolled towards the outskirts of the camp as they reminisced about their earlier days. It's strange what only a year can do to change a person. Once out of earshot of everyone else, they commented on how strange the war seemed and how suppressing a rebellion had somehow become a genocide. Roy clicked his mouth shut as a private came running over to deliver a message to Hughes.

Hughes proceeded to lose his composure as he gloated about his girlfriend back in Central. For a minute, they slipped into their old antics, and the hell of the war zone faded from their minds.

Something shifted behind them, and they spun to see a bloody, half naked warrior priest lunging at them with a knife. Roy snapped his fingers instinctually, but only felt flesh on flesh. He had never put his gloves back on after washing. Hughes was pulling one of his hidden knives, but they both knew he was too slow.

Without warning, the side of the priest's head exploded like a melon on cement. Roy looked around wildly as the sound of a gunshot echoed off the stone buildings. Hughes resheathed his knife calmly. "_It's okay, Roy_," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "_We have a hawk's eye on us_."

Roy froze. _"Hawk…_?"

"_Yeah, it's a nameless sniper_," Hughes said, pointing at one of the only tall buildings remaining in the area. "_It's become quite a topic among us. She's still a cadet from the military academy, but at any rate she's got a good shot._"

Roy's head suddenly began swimming. It had to be coincidence. But why did Hughes choose a hawk of all things?

"_It seems she's been brought all the way out here_," Hughes continued. "_Heh, to think they have to pull out even a little girl like that. This must be the end_."

Roy barely heard his friend's last words as he stared towards the indicated tower. Could she really be here? Could he face the angel that preoccupied his dreams now that his hands were soiled beyond redemption?

---------------

Later that evening, Hughes led Roy through the crowds of soldiers. "_There she is_," Hughes said, and Roy's blood froze. It didn't matter because he had stopped breathing, so there was no oxygen to circulate anyway.

_"Yo!_" Hughes called to a hooded figure sitting beside one of the fires. "_Thanks for before. You were the one who shot that man earlier, right_?"

As the girl straightened up, her hood fell from her face, and Roy suddenly felt like crying. It had been just over two years since he had last seen her driving away from her father's house, but she had already lost all traces of that girl's demeanor. Her eyes were haunted the same way his own were. They were both killers now.

Instead of answering Hughes' question, she kept her gaze fixed on Roy. "_It's been a while, Mustang-san_," she said stoically. "_No, perhaps I should call you Major Mustang, now. Do you remember me_?" As soon as she had reached the fighting, she had heard rumors about the State Alchemists that had been sent to finish the rebellion. She knew who the Flame Alchemist must be, but she still wasn't prepared for meeting him face to face.

Hughes made a noise of surprise, but Roy ignored him as he studied his fallen angel. Her cloak was dusty like everything else in this godforsaken desert. She had smudges of dirt on her face, and she looked as exhausted as he felt. Instead of the formal cadet uniform of an academy student, she wore a standard military field uniform like his own. "_How could I forget_?" he replied softly.

After a brief introduction to Hughes, Roy and Riza began walking through the crowd of soldiers towards the edge of the city. Hughes had shown a flicker of recognition when Roy mentioned that she was the daughter of his alchemy sensei, but he had enough consideration not to tease his friend given the somber atmosphere of the meeting.

As they wove through the throng of dirty blue uniforms, Roy and Riza spoke quietly about unimportant things. Yes, she had decided to enroll at the military academy after her father died. No, she had not yet graduated. Yes, he passed the state alchemist qualification exam a year after leaving the academy. It had been quite easy with her father's alchemy.

"Have you been treated well since arriving here?" Roy asked with concern. There were very few women assigned to positions of actual combat, and he knew how rough some of the men could be. He remembered his last words with his sensei and felt a feeling of over-protectiveness grow stronger.

"Yes, I share my quarters with some of the other women here. There are also a few soldiers who seem to view me as their little sister, and they act like my guards. One old man seems to think he's my father," she said with a small chuckle. Roy was surprised to feel a surge of jealousy towards these other men.

They continued their small talk until they reached the edge of the desert and paused to survey the landscape. In the back of their minds, instinct was telling them to be wary of another ambush, but both were too weary to care much. If they were killed, so be it. It was the least they deserved. Twilight was nearly over, and shadows fell everywhere.

"_I was… afraid of my father_," she said quietly, "_because the sight of him absorbed in his research was as if he was possessed by something. Yet I still believed in my father's words that this great power would bring happiness to many people._"

Roy heard an echo of his own voice, a younger voice, saying very much the same thing.

Riza looked down at her hands. "_I believed that alchemy would give people hope and dreams, and that the military would protect this country's future._" Her words were also the same as they had been two years ago, but her voice was hoarse from the dry air and tired from the hardships of war. "P_lease tell me, Major. Why are soldiers, who ought to be protecting citizens, killing them instead_?" She touched her belt through her dingy cloak, and Roy suspected she kept a handgun loaded there.

Turning to look up him, she asked, "W_hy is alchemy, which ought to bring happiness to the people, being used for murder_?"

Roy was ashamed, but could not look away from her anguished eyes. These were the questions he asked himself every night. How did it come to this? He was just following orders…

Riza continued as if she didn't really expect an answer. "_Why did it turn out this way_?" she whispered into the night.

-------------

Riza's fingers remained clenched around her rifle long after Kimbley had departed. Roy had followed Hughes for a moment, but soon returned to where she was sitting.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, squatting beside her.

"Yeah," she said absently.

"Don't listen to what that jerk said," Roy said, trying to dismiss Kimbley's harsh words. "He's just another warhound."

"No," Riza whispered. "He was right. I am proud of my skills. And he was right about my victims. If I don't remember them and their deaths, who will?" She turned to face Roy and clutched at his sleeves. "But I did not sign up to kill innocents. I am not proud to kill helpless citizens. I wasn't prepared for this." Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his cloak as if begging him to believe her. Her jaw clenched and he watched her visibly wrestle with her emotions. "Why am I here…?"

"All the times you've pulled the trigger since arriving in Ishval, if it wasn't you it would have been someone else. These people would have died all the same in the end. But because you're here, my life and many others were saved." He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and ducked his head to look into her eyes. "And every person that I can protect can then be attributed to your marksmanship."

She met his eyes evenly. "And every person that you kill?" Her words had no venom to them, no intent to hurt. She was merely echoing his logic. Roy recoiled from her and let his arms drop limply to his sides. "I'm sorry, that was out of line," she said softly, dropping her gaze to the ground between them. "Please excuse me, I must find out my assignments for the day."

Roy stood motionless as she stood and stepped around him into the crowds of hurrying soldiers. The rationale he had used to soothe her conscience did not apply to him. If he was not in Ishval, it's not like some other soldier could simply take his place and pull the trigger for him. There were none with a trigger like his. He and the other alchemists had a different sort of blood on their hands. Perhaps saving his life had not been a cause for celebration after all.

-----------------------

Roy stood in front of the dying Ishvalian priest. He had blood gushing from a wound in his abdomen, and a dog had curled up at his feet and died protecting its master.

"_Major Mustang, this is the last one_," said a private next to him.

_"Elder_," Roy said to the old man, "_you are the last one. Is there anything you wish to say_?"

The old man grimaced through the blood leaking from his mouth and opened one red eye to look at Roy. "_I curse you_," he wheezed.

Roy did not reply as he extended his gloved hand in front of him. 'Too late, old man,' he thought to himself. 'I am already cursed beyond redemption.'

He snapped his fingers and felt the familiar rough cloth scratching against itself. He did not flinch from the heat. He imagined he would have to get used to it after he died anyway.

--------------------------

Roy sat down heavily on a flat piece of rubble that used to belong to the front of a cafe. Headquarters had sent word to all sections that the final pockets of resistance had fallen. He closed his eyes and pictured the last priest smiling as the flames seared the skin from his body. Roy had become an expert at killing with his alchemy. The man did not suffer much. Please, please be the last, Roy prayed to himself.

"_Major Mustang_," a man called, interrupting his brief internal litany. "_How about a drink_?"

Roy nodded his agreement and was introduced to the men celebrating nearby. He was embarrassed to realize they were from his own party, and he didn't recognize a single face. There was not much teamwork involved where State Alchemists were concerned. They didn't need much backup, and they certainly didn't use tactics or stealth. Simple brute force was more than adequate against even the warrior priests.

Roy was disgusted by how many of his own comrades had died without him even knowing their names, let alone the countless Ishvalians.

The man who had initially invited Roy over to the group put his cup down on a cracked piece of rubble. "_With those powerful flames, you always cut across the battlefield and into the enemy, and you didn't let us subordinates die in vain. The way your alchemy mowed down the enemy was 'reliable.' No other word can describe it_," the man said with pride as he pulled out a cigarette. "_Because the Flame Alchemist was there, we didn't die. To us, you are a hero_."

Roy shook his head in disagreement. Heroes don't kill women and children. Heroes don't perform experiments on other humans.

"_Please don't make that sort of face_," the man continued after lighting his cigarette. "_Thanks to you, we here survived. We're grateful, Major_."

The men stood at attention and saluted him, and Roy finally allowed himself to believe their gratitude. He saluted them back, and the group dispersed into happy cheers at the prospect of going home.

He thought about Riza's words. By saving his life, was she now responsible for all his actions? Could everyone he killed curse Riza for sparing their murderer? Could everyone he saved bless Riza for saving their savior?

Because the Flame Alchemist was there, we didn't die. That was what the soldier had said. And now, each of those men would return to their families and their homes and their lives. If only he had paid more attention and been more aware of his subordinates! Maybe he could have saved more!

Maybe Riza was right, and his hands were stained a darker shade of red from the murders committed by those he saved, but why dodge rain drops while you're drowning? He could not sink any lower, but he could keep saving those below him. Those that he saved would save those below themselves, and it would continue. Perhaps he could even prevent them from killing needlessly and thus keep their hands clean. He could spare the next generation from the horrors he had committed. But for that, he would need to be at the top.

------------------

Roy was making a last sweep of the encampment when he spotted a small figure hunched over the ground.

"_Aren't you going back_?" he asked as he approached where Riza was kneeling. "_You'll be left behind_." She was patting the mound of dirt in front of a crude grave marker. "_Is it a comrade_?"

_"No_," Riza said, turning around to look at him over her shoulder. "_An Ishvalian child. He was shot and left on the roadside alone." She turned back to the stick in the ground and straightened it a little_.

"_Let's go back_," Roy said gently. "_The war is over_."

"_The battle of Ishval isn't over inside me yet. It will probably never end_," she said, facing the grave. "_I was the one who believed in you and entrusted my father's research to you. I was also the one who chose to go into the military academy wishing for the happiness of the people. Even if that had undesired results, I cannot run from the facts._"

Her shoulders began to quiver as her hands balled into fists on her knees. "T_o deny, atone, or beg for forgiveness is the arrogance of those who did the killing_," she said through clenched teeth. "_I have a favor to as you, Mustang-san," she whispered. "Please, burn and destroy the symbol on my back_."

"_What are you…_?" Roy exclaimed. "_There's no way I can_…"

"_If I can't atone_," she interrupted, "_then at least do it so that it can't give birth to a new flame alchemist. So that the secrets on my back can't be used._" He thought she had been weeping, but when she looked up at him her eyes were dry with determination. "_So I can lay down the bonds to my father and alchemy and become Riza Hawkeye as an individual_," she pleaded. _"Please_."

It was the last word her father had uttered to Roy. He had asked Roy to take care of his daughter, and now she knelt in front of him begging for him to burn the secrets of his sensei's research from her skin.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out his glove and fingered the transmutation circle. He had become extremely adept at controlling his flames. He could singe an eyelash or obliterate a house. At least all those hours in the 'hospital' experimenting on captured Ishvalians would pay off now.

--------------------

Roy led the way back towards the now-abandoned encampment. The building that had been used as a temporary hospital was empty and stripped of all equipment. The crude tables and chairs remained, however, and the rooms were still relatively clean. In the main waiting room, there were stacks of crates awaiting shipment back to other military facilities, and Roy rummaged around for some extra bandages and supplies.

Striding down the hallways with his arms full, he found the place eerily quiet. It had always been bustling around the clock with doctors and nurses rushing from room to room. The upper floors had been sealed to most personnel, and that was where the 'experiments' had been conducted. Roy quickly led Riza back out into the blinding sunlight and towards his sleeping quarters.

His tent was pitched away from where the regular soldiers slept. No one felt comfortable sleeping too close to the alchemists. He pulled back the flap for her before stepping inside. Riza heard a sharp snap, and a lantern flared to life followed by three more in quick succession. They illuminated a cramped but tidy area about the size of the tent Riza shared with five other women.

Roy pointed to a thin pallet on a rickety cot before picking up a bucket and ducked through the tent flap. A short time later he returned with fresh water, but he stood in the entrance studying her.

"Are you sure you want to do this now? I don't have any regular anesthetic," he said warned.

"I am willing to endure it," she said determinedly. As if to demonstrate her willingness, she began unbuttoning her coat. "How long will it take to recover?"

Roy closed his eyes and envisioned the tattoo. Despite having only seen it that one time, he could still picture it in its entirety. Before coming to the war, he would lull himself to sleep by methodically recalling each detail.

He opened his eyes to see that Riza wore a black shirt beneath her uniform and was in the process of unbuckling her holster. "It will be very sensitive for several days," he told her. "If the area was smaller I could burn the nerve endings, but I don't want you to permanently lose feeling across too much of your back."

He fished a small white bottle from the pile and shook out a few pills before tucking the rest into Riza's coat. "These are the strongest painkillers I could find. They aren't much, but they're better than nothing," he said, handing her the yellow tablets. She swallowed them quickly, and he turned around to face the wall so she could remove the rest of her clothing. The action reminded him of his first encounter with the tattoo, and he was saddened by how different the circumstances were.

"Please turn around," she said softly, and his chest ached.

Roy turned and saw that she had removed everything except her blue pants and was lying face down on the pallet. She had her head turned to look at him, and her cheek rested on her forearm. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a short, silent conversation about how the world was much different from what they had imagined. Their regret was mirrored in each other's sadness.

He walked up next to the bed and sighed down at the intricate design. He traced a finger around the circle and across the salamander. His gloves were rough against her skin, as if he could remove the ink like sandpaper on paint. "I had thought…," he said before his throat suddenly constricted. "I wanted…"

Riza twisted to look at him over her shoulder. Roy stood with his arms straight and his hands clenched into fists on the edge of the mattress. He hung his head at the sight of so much hope turned into so much failure.

Riza turned away and put her head back on her arm. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I said a horrible thing to you the other day."

When Roy did not respond, she continued, "We have all committed sins in this country. Kimbley was right; can I kill ten people and be happy I didn't kill a hundred? Is it better to kill with a gun than with alchemy? It was not right of me to add to your burden, and I'm sorry. You were generously trying to comfort me and I spat in your face."

"It's alright," Roy said without raising his head. "Whatever others may say about my actions, they can be no crueler than what I say to myself."

Riza began to sit up and protest, but Roy put a hand on her back. "The key to the cipher is hidden here," he said in a louder voice, running his fingers over her left shoulder blade. "Without that, the rest of the script is meaningless. I will burn the skin just deep enough to remove the layer with the dye. It will blister for several days, and you will have to be careful it doesn't become infected."

"Please, do it," Riza said, tensing with anticipation.

Roy took a small washcloth from his bundle of supplies and rolled it into a thin column. He walked around the cot and knelt in front of Riza. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"I am asking for this," she replied softly.

He held the cloth out, and she opened her mouth and bit down on the fabric.

"Not for this," he said, standing back up. "For failing your trust." He walked out of sight, and suddenly Riza felt the excruciating pain of her skin being burnt away. Her vision flared white behind her eyelids and she screamed around the cloth clenched in her teeth.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and Riza was left with a searing fire in her shoulder. She forced her jaw to relax and the fabric fell out of her panting mouth. Despite a loud ringing in her ears, she heard Roy dip a cloth into the bucket, and in a moment a seemingly insignificant coolness settled on her back.

As her senses returned to normal, she finally realized that the muffled sobbing noises weren't in fact coming from her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Roy sitting on the ground with his hunched back against the bed and his head hanging in his hands.

In her scream, Roy heard the screams of hundreds of Ishvalians killed by his alchemy. He could see their accusing faces as their skin peeled off in charred strips. What twisted string of events brought him to use the same alchemy on this woman?

Riza tried to push herself into a sitting position, but the damp cloth shifting on her back nearly made her scream. Pressing her cheek to the sheets, she waited for the pain to subside. After several minutes of regretting letting the rolled fabric slip from her mouth, she braced herself to move again.

This time, she knew to expect the overwhelming pain, and she moved without hesitation, slipping off the pallet and to the ground beside the incoherent alchemist. She was on her hands and knees by the time the burning incapacitated her, and the two figures sat on the dusty ground in perfect images of physical and mental distress.

Once the pain decreased to bearable levels, she slowly moved towards Roy on her hands and knees. Part of her had been disgusted by the stories she had heard about the State Alchemists. Such unparalleled killing was inhuman. Now she felt disgust at herself for feeling she was different or above them.

Sitting up on her knees, she reached out to her father's apprentice and pulled him close with complete disregard for her half-naked state. He crumpled into her embrace like a rag doll and continued to weep with his face pressed against her hot skin. She rested her cheek on the top of his head and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wasn't surprised to find tears leaking from her own eyes as well.

She remembered one of her first missions when her team was stationed in a building overlooking a city square where the Ishvalians and the military were facing off. Their job was to supply cover fire and pick off any Ishvalians they could.

The problem, as Riza saw it, was that there were still civilians in many of the buildings surrounding the square. A woman burst from a storefront seconds before the glass blew out from an explosion inside. She stumbled from the blast and began running away from the fighting with two children in tow.

"There," said the man standing behind Riza, pointing at the three figures. "Don't let any of them escape."

"But they're civilians!" Riza replied.

"Don't question my orders!" the colonel shouted. "They could be smuggling information or weapons. Shoot, girl, or I'll shoot them and you for subordination."

"Yes, Colonel," Riza replied quickly. She found one of the children in her scope and hesitated. She could plainly see the fear on the child's face as he grasped his mother's skirts. Choosing the lesser of evils, she raised her rifle and shot the woman. It was a clean head shot.

She had watched numbly as the children stared at the corpse of the woman. The bullet had shattered the side of her head, and pieces of bone and brains were splattered on the smallest child. Another gunman must have spotted the fleeing family because the older child fell to his knees as a bullet tore through his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream, but a second bullet to the back of his head sent him toppling forward.

The remaining child had begun shrieking as he backed unsteadily from his dead mother and brother. A bullet took him in the leg and he fell to the dusty ground still wailing. A second bullet ruined his shoulder. Riza could watch no more and put a third hole between his eyes. That child had been the first of many. The throbbing pain in her back was a paltry penance for what she had done in the name of war.

Eventually, their tears ran dry, but neither person moved from the position for a long time. Riza stayed still despite cramps in her lower back because she knew the impending pain from her burn was much worse. Roy seemed to have completely depleted his energy and showed no inclination to go on living.

Finally, Riza shifted her legs and let out a low hiss as her back reminded her of her condition. The noise seemed to spark life back into Roy and he sat up with a concerned look on his blotchy face.

"I'm sorry," he said in a raspy voice, rubbing his sleeve across his face. Then he noticed her undressed condition and hastily turned away. "I'm sorry."

Riza put a hand on his back and said, "Please stop apologizing." She took her black shirt from the bed and clutched it to her chest. "Now what?" she asked.

"I should examine your back," he said thickly. Riza leaned heavily on the bed as she tried to hoist herself back onto the mattress. She let out a groan, and Roy moved quickly to help her. She tried to stifle her cries by burying her face in the soft blanket.

Roy brought two of the lanterns closer to the bed so he could examine her skin closely. The burn was very precise and not a millimeter deeper than it needed to be. Probably his best work yet, he thought as his stomach twisted with disgust.

Taking a fresh cloth from his pilfered supplies, he dipped it into the bucket and began sponging her clean. The cool water felt like heaven as he ran the cloth down her arms and across her neck. She gave him a weak smile as he gently stroked her face clean.

"This may hurt," he said, and then he lightly daubed the cloth on her blistered skin. She inhaled sharply, but managed not to cry out. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

He unscrewed a small jar and scooped out a thick white cream that smelled like a combination of herbs and chemicals. He spread the ointment across the burn and sat back on his heels to let it work into the skin while wiping his hands clean on a rag. Definitely his best work yet. His composure teetered again, and he squeezed his eyes closed.

"That already feels be…," Riza began, looking over her shoulder. She stopped when she noticed that Roy's shoulders were shaking. "I'm sorry," she said, changing what she had been saying. "I wouldn't have asked this of you if I had known how much it would affect you."

"It's not your fault," he said through clenched teeth. "I had already damned myself before you even arrived in this hell hole. Haven't you wondered how I was able to so expertly burn the ink from your back without damaging even the nerves? Haven't you wondered where I learned that level of control and knowledge of burns?"

The look of sadness on her face told him that she did know. "I burned them alive," he whispered hoarsely. "It took some of them days to die."

She opened her mouth to tell him he didn't have to talk about it, but he continued as if the words were leaking from his conscience. "One of my orders was to see how much of the body could be burned before it died from shock," he said with his eyes closed.

Suddenly, Riza felt compelled to tell him about her own sins. Not because she felt hers were worse than his, or that it would make him feel better to know he was not alone, but because she needed to tell someone. She wondered at how strange it was that humans needed to share their emotions with others.

"I decided to kill a woman because I thought it would be better than killing her children. Her children's last moments alive were spent wailing over her body before they, too, were shot. The lesson I learned that day was to kill the whole family quickly before any of them could watch their loved ones die," she said, turning over so she could sit up on the bed. She stared at her hands fisted in the blanket clutched to her chest without looking at the man kneeling beside her.

"I set fire to an entire temple," Roy continued when she was done. "The screams from the people inside would not stop, so to end it I used a dozen small explosions that collapsed the roof. "

"I was part of a sniper operation that assassinated several important Ishvalian leaders. We ambushed them during a wedding and killed every last person there," she said in a flat voice.

They continued pouring out their confessions for what seemed like hours. Neither commented on what the other had done, and their eyes remained as dry as their voices.

Finally, Roy said, "I should have just said 'No.' Why did I follow orders? Why did I comply with this stupid, senseless genocide?"

"I ask myself the same thing," Riza said with a sigh.

"Major Armstrong lost the will to fight and was sent back to Central. What does it say about me that I continued with this massacre?" Roy whispered, looking at Riza.

"We can't change what we did," Riza told him. "We joined the military and followed the orders of our superiors. We can only control what we do from now on." She tried to convince herself of her words, but regret and guilt still tore at her heart.

Roy gave her a half-hearted smile. "Remember the last time we spoke about our futures?" he asked sadly.

"Yeah," she said, a wistful smile touching the corner of her mouth. "We were so stupid, weren't we?" Roy chuckled bitterly in agreement.

"Well, what should we plan for our future this time?" she asked sarcastically. "More happiness and hope for the people? More puppies and butterflies?"

"How about a world where shit like this can't happen," Roy replied dryly.

"That's a rather vague goal," she said.

"To do so, I'll need to call all the shots," he said with sudden seriousness. "I'll make it so that no one will ever go through what we have."

She smiled at him because for the first time since seeing him through her rifle scope, he looked like the boy apprenticed to her father.

Roy mistook her smile and said, "Stupid, I know." He moved as if to stand back up, but Riza reached out her hand and stopped him.

"No, I think it's a wonderful plan," she said softly.

It was the same as the first time; Riza was sitting on the bed with Roy by the side. This time, however, their kiss remained soft and unhurried.

To Riza it seemed like Roy was trying to prove that he could do more than kill and destroy and cause pain. He kissed her throat so softly she wondered if she imagined it. Her back still hummed with barely controlled fire, but her other senses were beginning to demand more attention. The sheet fell from her hands as she ran her hands through his dark hair.

Roy was overly aware of the wound on Riza's back, and he hesitated to hold her too tightly or move too quickly. Instead he slid to his knees and paid attention to other areas. Finally, Riza grew frustrated by his gentleness and pulled him onto the bed beneath her.

The pain on her back grew more pronounced as she moved on top of him, but she decided it was a small price for the other sensations she was generating. At some point, pleasure and pain became indistinguishable.

Before the euphoria could fade and unmask the fury of the burn, she fell asleep sprawled on top of him with the blanket tangled in their legs.

She awoke slightly before dawn and stared in consternation at the unfamiliar tent. Only one lantern was still lit, and she studied Roy's face in the dim light. This was the man that had inspired her to join the military. She vaguely wondered at how he had managed to inspire her once again despite the abject failure of their original good intentions. Hell, she had nothing left to lose. Not even her soul.

She groaned as she tentatively shifted her weight, and Roy opened his eyes sleepily. He smiled slightly when he saw her, but then frowned when he finally registered why she had made a noise.

He kissed her cheek and trailed his lips to her shoulder while he gently slipped out from beneath her. He pulled on his pants and took out the last jar of anesthetic cream. He lit more lanterns so he could examine the blisters carefully before covering them in ointment. Wiping his hands clean, he studied the girl lying in front of him. As he scrubbed his hand through his hair, he thought that there had never been an angel before who looked so thoroughly disheveled.

Despite a bone-deep weariness, he felt a new excitement building inside himself. There was a reason for continuing down this damnable path after all. He would use the prestige gained from this war to work his way to the top, and from there, he would pull all the strings. Ishval would never happen again. He would rebuild himself from the ashes of this war, and if it was arrogant to beg for forgiveness from the dead, then he would make a country where no one would beg for such things again.

When he could see the muscles in Riza's back relax as the pain subsided, he covered the wound with gauze pads and secured them in place with bandages. Getting her back into her uniform was slow, but she took the pain stoically. It was the least she deserved for her crimes, she thought.

As they stepped out into the early morning sunlight, Roy handed her a small white card. "This is the name of a doctor in Central," he told her. "He can take care of your burn, and you can trust him with your secret. Just tell him I sent you."

She took the card and studied the man in front of her. His eyes seemed more alive than she had seen since meeting him in Ishval. Could he still feel something as honest as hope after living through this war? More importantly, could she?

Not knowing what else to say, she saluted him stiffly and turned to return to her own quarters. She would catch the early train out of this forsaken desert. Roy saluted back and watched silently as she disappeared around the corner of a crumbled building. He turned back into his tent to finish preparations for breaking down the encampment. There was a lot of work to be done.

------------------

After returning from the war, Riza graduated from the academy with honors and was stationed at Eastern Headquarters. She partly believed her grandfather had something to do with her assignment, but the old man gave no hint that he was involved. Soon after her arrival, she was summoned to Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang's office. As she strode down the hallway in her new uniform with a short coat, she mulled over all the possible reasons he would request her presence.

She entered his office and saluted automatically. Roy appraised her from behind his desk with his hands folded neatly over some papers. "_So you went through all that in Ishval, but in the end you chose this path_," he said.

"_Yes, I chose this path myself and wear this uniform of my own will_," she said.

The image of Riza with her arms thrust comically through the sleeves his uniform flashed through his mind, and he cleared his throat. Looking down at his papers, he asked, "_What's your field of expertise_?" Stupid question. He already knew the answer.

_"Guns_," she replied promptly. She remembered squinting her eyes through her scope until she could no longer see the face of the person she was shooting. "_Unlike a sword or a knife, it doesn't leave the feeling of a person dying on your hands_."

Roy looked up at her with interest. "_That's deceit_," he said simply. "_So you plan on deceiving yourself like that and continuing to soil your hands_?"

Riza met his gaze evenly. "_That's right_," she said, much to his surprise. "_We soldiers should be the only ones soiling our hands and spilling blood. It should be enough for only us to go through something like Ishval. In order for the new generation that will be born to enjoy happiness, we will pay the cost by shouldering corpses and crossing a river of blood_."

Roy closed his eyes as he listened to her repeating his own words from the war before pushing himself to his feet. "_I'm thinking of recommending you as my aide_," he told her. "_I want you to protect my back. Do you understand? To entrust my back to you means that you can shoot me from behind at any time. If I ever step off the path, shoot and kill me with those hands. You are qualified to do that_."

In a way, it was his apology for misusing her father's alchemy. She had entrusted her back to him, and he had failed. Now he asked her to have faith in his new dream, and to act as judge and executioner should he fail again. "_Will you follow me_?" he asked softly.

'I have been all along,' she thought to herself. Out loud, she said, _"Understood_." She still wondered, however, how she would be able to work in such close proximity to this man. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to him, but their dream of redemption and hope for the next generation was more important than the desires of one soiled woman. "_If that is your wish, then I will follow you into hell_," she answered.

Their eyes locked a moment, and then Roy turned to look out the window of his office. "_I am a powerless human. Because of that, I need your help in order to protect everything. Let's change this country together._"

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(AN) The next few chapters will probably elaborate on other scenes found in the manga like the search for new alchemists that brings Roy and Riza to Rizembul or the events with Barry the Chopper, so please look for updates! Thank you for reading! (/AN)


	3. Lipstick Colored Frustration

Chapter 3: Lipstick-colored Frustration

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Hawkeye studied her traveling companion silently as he dozed with his head against the window. Every once in a while, the train would jostle back and forth, and his head would temporarily leave the glass before thumping back into contact. Neither the sound nor the impact disturbed his sleep, however, and the bit of drool in the corner of his mouth leaked further towards his chin. He had gotten back late last night, after all.

She turned back to the newspaper folded carefully on her lap and distractedly paged through the headlines. Their trip had started off smoothly, but Hawkeye was glad it would soon be over.

A year after the end of the war, the military decided to begin actively recruiting new State Alchemists. They had proven to be worth their salt during the war, it seemed. Probably due to his youth and charisma, a large portion of this task was given to Roy Mustang and his subordinates. The team had spent months scouting the country, making phone calls, and investigating rumors. Potential recruits were added to a list, and Mustang himself made the offers in person.

Hawkeye and Mustang had been traveling for close to two months and visited nearly a hundred potential examinees. Most were in or near major cities and were easily found, but there were several leads in outlying towns that took multiple days to reach. The vast majority of people on their list were a waste of time, but even a handful of future State Alchemists would greatly add to Mustang's prestige. And, of course, these new dogs would be indebted to the Flame Alchemist who gave them such an extraordinary opportunity.

Hawkeye had been surprised when Mustang told the group who would be accompanying him on his recruiting, though by all logic it made sense. She was the highest ranking person in his office, and everyone viewed this as a free vacation away from HQ. Havoc was the most disappointed of all and spent the day sulking at his desk until Falman pointed out that this meant the Lieutenant Colonel would be out of their hair for almost two months. They all looked a little brighter with that in mind.

Hawkeye, however, was not as enthusiastic. Working under a man she admired greatly and was attracted to even more was as difficult as she had predicted it would be. For the first couple months, she avoided speaking to Mustang more than absolutely necessary. While this had prevented her from having any engaging conversation with the man, it also made for a very terse work environment. Finally, Mustang had called her into his office with a hurt look in his eyes. He had asked if she regretted her decision, and would she like to be transferred somewhere else? Uncomfortable with the situation, she had stiffly informed him that she was content where she was.

After that, Hawkeye studied how Mustang's other subordinates acted towards the lieutenant colonel and tried to imitate their behavior. They were respectful but also at ease. Hawkeye copied their amused obedience and allowed herself to chuckle at Mustang's antics or to roll her eyes at his outward arrogance. She found that by taking a sort of older sister perspective on her relationship with Mustang, she was able to ignore her lust for the man and convert it into something closer to affection. Most of the time. Eventually, she fell into a steady routine and time ticked by smoothly in the aftermath of the war.

Spending two months on the road with him, however, was an entirely different story. As expected, the two took all their meals together. They usually ate out since they were staying in hotel rooms and moved around too often to buy groceries. At first, Hawkeye kept the conversation glued to the task at hand – recruiting new alchemists. Her job on this trip was basically to organize everything: names and places to visit, the most efficient route, facts about each person.

It was inevitable that they exhausted the topic, and Hawkeye began to feel somewhat anxious to find other work-related things to talk about. Sneaking a glance at Mustang one evening over dinner, she realized that her discomfort was entirely one sided. The dark haired man was quiet and remained intent on his food, however his posture was relaxed and comfortable. He picked up his wine glass and absent-mindedly swirled the crimson liquid as he stared out the window beside their table. Hawkeye took a deep breath and forced her muscles to loosen. If the lieutenant colonel was comfortable with the silence, there was no reason to work herself into a twitch. Since then she discovered that, much to her dismay, she enjoyed simply being in his company regardless of conversation.

Mustang's head thumped on the window of the train again, and Hawkeye placed her newspaper on the seat beside her briefcase. She took a thin notebook from the leather case and paged through the entries. Another little-known objective of this trip was to expand Mustang's network of eyes and ears. When Mustang had first handed Hawkeye the list of informants, she hadn't understood why he refused to meet her eyes. After scanning through the contacts, though, she had a sneaking suspicion that Mustang had inherited this network from her grandfather.

At first, Hawkeye had treated the situation as professionally as possible. She was the one who organized all his meetings, after all. After dinner they would both retire to their respective hotel rooms, and a short while later, Hawkeye would hear him slip out to meet that night's contact. Occasionally, she would still be awake reading on her bed when he returned to his room reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume.

She became accustomed to taking walks in the evening while Mustang was out gallivanting, and at first she had tried to likewise explore the local nightlife. That scene, however, was distinctly not for her, and she soon limited her activity to sightseeing. She had only brought one civilian outfit, which consisted of a sweater and blouse over a knee-length skirt. The purpose of the slit up the right side of her skirt was to provide easy access to her leg holster, however it unfortunately garnered unwanted attention, and she spent most of the night dodging leering men. She wondered briefly at her ability to attract the dregs of society as she packed the skirt deep into her suitcase. In complete contrast, her military uniform deterred anyone whatsoever from seeking her company despite the fitted blue dress skirt.

Even though she knew that Mustang's meetings were professional in nature and vital to expanding his influence, she still found herself growing irritable at the thought of him painting the town with beautiful women hanging on his arm. Oh how she tried to stifle her jealousy, but eventually she bitterly admitted to herself that she wished he would look at her the way he looked at the other women. Since becoming his aide, Mustang hadn't made the slightest of advances towards her. It was as if their previous nights together had never happened. She supposed that was for the best, but there was an innate part of her that craved the attention despite knowing it would never work out.

Lying in bed at night, she would stare at the dark ceiling and berate herself for expecting happiness out of this life that she had ruined with her own hands. She had taken countless husbands from innocent wives. Who was she to wish for a normal life?

The little black notebook in Hawkeye's hands confirmed that Mustang would have another night without enough sleep. She clapped it shut and stowed her belongings back into her briefcase as the train began breaking into the station. She reached out to wake Mustang and paused. She had been about to shake his knee when she caught herself. Instead, she kicked his shin and tried to suppress her smile as sat up with a groan and wiped the drool from his chin.

"Sir, we're about to arrive," she told him.

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On a few occasions, she had secretly trailed Mustang when he left to meet his contact. While planning his schedule, Hawkeye had realized that many of the bars and nightclubs were in the seedy sections of Central or South City. Since he was posing as a civilian, pulling out a gun or using his alchemy would be a dead give away, and it would draw negative attention to the contact. Hawkeye never followed him directly; she knew exactly where he would be going anyway. Ten minutes after she heard him leave his room, she would slip out and wander over to the place. Even though she was more conspicuous in her uniform, no one dared to ask what she was doing or why she was standing in the shadows staring at the door to a bar.

After a few nights as the invisible bodyguard, she quickly decided that Mustang could take care of himself. If he blew his cover and lost a contact, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Truth be told, she couldn't stand watching him flirt and laugh with all the beautiful women, and all of the joints he had to visit seemed teeming with them. They were so glamorous with perfect makeup and fashionable clothing. Riza felt her self-confidence sink into her amorphous uniform, and she began considering growing her hair long. She couldn't remember the last time it reached her shoulders.

The one thing that made the situation bearable was that Mustang never brought the women back to his room, and he was always alone in the morning when they met for breakfast. Whatever happened in the bars and clubs stayed in the bars and clubs.

Which was why she was surprised that night to hear the sound of feminine laughter echoing from the hallway as she pulled her nightgown over her head. She managed to restrain her curiosity for thirty seconds while she unbuckled her belt-holster and pulled off her blue skirt before hurrying across the room to peer through the hole in the door. The glass covering the hole gave a fisheye view of the hallway, and Hawkeye saw Mustang walk into view with a dark-haired woman hanging on his arm. Her jaw clenched at how attractive this woman looked in her red dress that showed off a good deal of slim leg.

"You should invite me in, Roy-san," the woman purred. "I'll make it worth your while." She reached out a red-lacquered finger to stroke his face but lost her balance and had to grab onto his arm with both hands. She covered her mouth as a drunken giggle escaped her painted lips.

"I told you, Alice, I can't," Mustang said in a light voice. "It's not a good idea."

"I know, I know. You have your dear little Elizabeth-chan," Alice pouted. Mustang tried to unlock his door, which was directly across from Hawkeye's, but the woman attached to his arm made it difficult. "Is this Elizabeth in there?"

"No, unfortunately Elizabeth-chan won't be spending the night with me," Mustang said with exaggerated sadness as the lock clicked loudly. Hawkeye felt a tightening in her stomach that sadly resembled jealousy. These brainless twits were one thing, but did Mustang have a girlfriend on the side?

"Then no one will know," Alice said as she pressed her body against Mustang's and leaned forward for a kiss.

"Please, Alice, not…," Mustang said awkwardly as he tried to extricate his arm and slip into his room.

Hawkeye snapped. She was tired, she was depressed, and she was more than irritated. Opening the door, she cleared her throat loudly.

Mustang looked up with a startled expression and met Hawkeye's glare with a mixture of guilt and relief. The woman was a bit slower to react as she turned to find the source of the interruption.

"Please keep the noise down," Hawkeye said as politely as she could manage. "There are people here trying to sleep."

Alice eyed her up and down before turning back to Mustang. "Roy-san, I'm not finished with you. We should talk more privately," she said, gesturing towards his room.

"Just don't keep talking here in the hallway," Hawkeye muttered as she turned to close the door.

"What a hag," Alice commented with another drunken giggle.

Hawkeye froze for a second before opening her door all the way. Her hand automatically flew to her side and she drew her pistol in one smooth motion. She tried to hide her surprise that the weapon was still strapped to her leg; she had been halfway through undressing when she had been interrupted.

The woman let out a small shriek at the sight of Hawkeye's drawn weapon, and she tried to cling even tighter to Mustang. Mustang, however, was unsuccessfully trying to smother his laughter and danced out of the woman's grasp. Finally tearing her eyes from the barrel of Hawkeye's gun, she took off down the hallway at a stumbling run.

Before the last flash of red disappeared down the stairwell, Mustang's laughter became roars as he leaned against his door holding his stomach and gasping for breath. Hawkeye was not nearly as amused. That wench had called her a _hag_! She was only twenty-two for goodness sake. Hawkeye admittedly paid little attention to her appearance, but did she really look that terrible?

"Goodnight, sir," Hawkeye said stiffly, pushing her door closed. She wanted to go check the mirror for wrinkles.

"Oh, Lieutenant," he said breathlessly, catching her door with the toe of his shoe. "That was priceless."

Hawkeye tried to force the door shut before giving up and turning to face her superior. "Excuse me, sir, but this hag needs some beauty sleep," she said sarcastically.

At the mention of sleep, Mustang finally noticed her attire. "Lieutenant, tell me you don't wear that thing to bed," he said, pointing at her leg holster.

"I was interrupted before I could remove it," she said indignantly.

Mustang's eyes followed her hand as she re-holstered her gun, and she was suddenly aware that her nightgown was every bit as revealing as Alice's little red dress. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks, and she tugged again at the doorknob.

Mustang ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "I don't know if that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen or the scariest," he said, glancing again at his lieutenant.

Hawkeye looked up with surprise when he put his arm on the doorway above her head and leaned in close to where she was standing. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he whispered, "Goodnight, Riza-chan." He kissed her on the cheek, his lips lingering near her ear for a moment, before stumbling back towards his own room. His door clicked shut, and Hawkeye finally turned back into her own room with a heavy sigh.


	4. Lust Colored Professionalism

Chapter 4: Lust-colored Professionalism

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(AN) This chapter continues a few days after where I left off. We begin here at manga chapter 24. (/AN)

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_"Are those kids going to come?"_ Hawkeye asked once the cart had begun clattering back to town.

_"They will,"_ Mustang replied, folding his arms over his chest.

_"You sound confident,"_ she commented. _"That Ed kid looked like he would never recover."_

_"Oh really?"_ Mustang smirked. _"Those eyes... they were lit with determination."_

Hawkeye decided not to press the issue and remained silent for the rest of the cart ride back to their hotel near the train station. Her thoughts kept straying back to the little girl she had just met and how upset she would be that her friends would be leaving to join the military. The look in the girl's eyes had been a strange mix of innocence and cynical sadness. It seemed the war found a way to touch everyone.

Over dinner, Mustang seemed grim but triumphant. Their mission had ended successfully, though circumstances were certainly tragic. The Elric boys had picked a lousy way to display their innate talent.

All told, Mustang found six potential alchemists who would participate in the next state exam. Another nine or ten would likely test within five years. Those were big numbers these days. On top of that, he had an eyes-and-ears network that spanned the entire country.

He ordered them a bottle of red wine and insisted they toast to a successful recruitment. "And it wouldn't have been possible without the help of my faithful second lieutenant," he said with a smile as he clinked his glass against hers. "Thank you for your hard work, Riza."

"Oh, I didn't do much," she said humbly, though inside she was positively glowing. "Havoc would have done the same."

Mustang snorted and took a sip of wine. "Yes, but Havoc wouldn't have been a fraction as pleasant to travel with," he said with distaste. "Besides," he continued, leaning his elbow on the table and propping his chin in his hand. "I can rest easy knowing my ace is here with me."

Hawkeye gave him a small smile, and a quiet moment passed between them. 'I was such a fool to let myself get worked up during this trip,' she told herself. 'There is no place I would rather be. There is no other place I belong than following this man.'

After dinner, they said their goodnights and stepped into their respective rooms. This time, they were lodged next to each other on the same side of the hallway. Hawkeye showered quickly and changed into her nightgown before sitting on her bed and staring at the door connecting their rooms. There was a deadbolt and a chain on her side of the door, and she assumed as much on the other.

Flopping back on the flimsy bed, she listened to the sound of Mustang moving around a mere ten feet from where she lay. There was the scritch of a metal hanger in the closet followed by a few light thumps. The tap water in his shower turned on, and Hawkeye realized she must have been listening to him undress.

She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow as her mind continued to follow him into the shower. Her memory supplied more than enough images to turn her cheeks cherry red.

Without removing her face from her pillow, she reached over to the nightstand and turned out the light. Wiggling under the blankets, she tried to think of something else. That terrible mystery novel she read on the train. The pipes she had to fix in her apartment back in East City. The piles of paperwork that surely awaited their return in three days.

Meanwhile, the water turned off in the room next door, and she let out a muffled expletive of despair as her imagination blithely informed her of what must be going on now.

Despite her growing concern, she eventually drifted off to sleep. The last thing she remembered hearing was the groan of the mattress through the wall as Mustang settled into his bed.

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Hawkeye awoke with a surge of unadulterated adrenaline. She had her pistol from the nightstand before her eyes even opened.

A man's gutteral cry reverberated through her room before changing to a low, pitiful moan.

Immediately alert, she felt a second wave of adrenaline threaten to give herself a heart attack. The sounds were coming from Mustang's room.

She sprang out of bed and stumbled to the door as the sheets tangled in her legs. Pressing an ear to the cheap wood, she heard Mustang cry out again. "Please, no," he pleaded, and the moan started again.

Hawkeye threw back the deadbolt and fumbled frantically with the chain. "Sir!" she called through the door. "Sir, are you alright?"

The chain finally negotiated, she grabbed the doorknob and yanked only to find that it was still locked from the other side.

Seething with frustrating and panic, she pointed her tiny pistol at the lock and fired twice. The sound was deafening in the quiet inn, but she didn't really give a damn right then. Maybe it would scare away whoever was with Mustang in the next room.

The sound of the door splintering echoed with her shots as she dove through the now open doorway and rolled to her knees, looking for a target. A snapping noise brought her attention back to the bed and the figure sitting bolt upright in a mess of sheets and blankets.

In the faint light from the street filtering through the dirty windows, she saw Mustang panting with wide eyes and his arm outstretched towards her. "Sir, what happened?" she asked, scanning the room once again for signs of a break in.

"Riza?" he asked breathlessly. "Oh God, Riza." He ran one hand shakily through his hair.

Slowly, realization dawned on her. He had been having a nightmare. Hell, she had enough of those herself. That should have been the first thing she thought of. She stood and walked over to the bed on shaky legs. The adrenaline was quickly fading and leaving her limbs feeling rubbery.

"Sir, it's okay," she said softly. Placing her gun on his nightstand, she picked a pillow off the ground and placed it back on the bed. "Here, lie back down and relax."

She tried to push him back down by the shoulders, but he grabbed her hands in both of his.

"Oh God, Riza," he repeated. "I almost… I almost killed you." He let go of her hands and pulled her into a crushing embrace. "If I had been wearing my gloves…"

"Sir, it's my fault for barging in," Riza said gently. "Of course you would respond to a gunshot like that. I'm sorry I overreacted."

"I was having… I was having a nightmare," he said in a hoarse whisper. His whole body was covered in sweat and still shaking, but his grip around her waist was vice-like. She perched herself on the side of the bed and tried to soothe him back to normal. The faint smell of his soap filled her nose and made her very aware of his shirtless state.

"It's alright, Sir. It's alright," she breathed in his ear. "We all have nightmares, but you're awake now and everything's fine."

There was a loud banging on the hallway door that startled them both. "What the hell is goin' on in there?" demanded the rough voice of the innkeeper.

"Nothing, sir," Riza replied with false nonchalance. "There was a commotion out on the street."

The innkeeper muttered something barely audible, but he stomped back down the hallway without another world. Riza let out a small sigh of relief. Explaining the door tomorrow morning would be difficult, but then again, not many people questioned the military.

"I… I… was back in Ishval," Mustang muttered as if they hadn't just been interrupted. "I was looking at a pile of corpses that died by my hand, and I tried to bring them back to life with alchemy."

"Hush, don't talk about it," Riza told him as she stroked his dark hair. Slowly, his body began to relax and she was able to push him back down onto the mattress. Disentangling his sheets and blankets, she smoothed them back into place.

She reached for her gun to return back to her own room when Mustang caught her by the wrist. "I know you don't think of me like that, so please don't think I'm out of line, but will you stay here for the rest of the night?" The last question was a soft murmur.

The statement caught her by surprise and she didn't know how to reply. 'No, I definitely do think of you like that. Do you think of _me_ like that? I don't think it's out of line. Unless you _want_ something out of line? You could ask me to sleep on the rug and bloody hell I probably would.' After a few moments of silence, Mustang released her arm with an embarrassed apology. "I'm sorry, lieutenant. I shouldn't ask for such a thing." He rolled over on his side so all she could see was his back.

Cursing her hesitation, she sat back down on the bed and leaned against the headboard. "Of course I'll stay," she said gently.

Mustang turned his head to study her, and she swung her legs up onto the mattress as if to demonstrate her willingness.

He gave her a crooked smile and rolled back over to face her. He curled up a little bit and rested his head on her lap, and she reached down to tuck the blanket around his shoulders.

"Thank you, Riza," Mustang whispered. His breath was warm and tickled her bare legs. Damn not grabbing her robe before busting the door down. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable," he said.

"Roy, who said I'm uncomfortable?" she asked as she stroked her fingers through his hair.

He peered at her from the corner of his eye and smiled. She could feel his cheek muscles moving against her skin. "You called me Roy," he said.

"I did," she said half with surprise. "And you're not making me uncomfortable at all."

"But you always avoid me, now," Mustang continued, closing his eyes. "I thought for sure you would find a reason to bail on this trip with me."

"I don't… I don't avoid you," she replied a bit defensively. "I'm just trying to be professional."

"Is that it? I thought maybe you regretted joining my team…"

Her fingers tightened in his hair a moment before she forced them to resume their motion. "Sir, I was serious about the promise I made to you. Your dream is my dream. I will follow you to hell and back."

"You called me 'sir' again," he said, but she could tell that he was happy from her response.

"We always met during such stressful times," he said after a short silence. "I thought maybe you regretted… us… as well…," he trailed off uncomfortably.

Riza gave a nervous chuckle. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel awkward at first," she said, and she could feel Roy's shoulders slump beneath the blankets. "But I wouldn't change a thing, even if I could. Who knew five years ago that I would be your subordinate?"

"So is the problem that you're a lower rank than me?" he pushed.

"No!" she replied quickly. "I just… wanted to be professional... And you have so many important things to do… I didn't want to be in the way…" Oh hell she was babbling now. She forced her mouth shut with a click.

"What if I promised we could keep things professional," Roy said hesitantly. "At work."

She felt her heart start racing and hoped Roy couldn't feel her excitement. Could he possibly mean…?

"I think," she swallowed thickly. "I think I would like that."

"Me too," he said softly and nuzzled his cheek against her legs. She squirmed slightly at the change in his demeanor.

Something that had been bothering her for a week clicked in her mind. "Roy, who's Elizabeth?" she asked a little more breathlessly than she would have liked.

He froze with one hand running up her calf. "How did you find out about Elizabeth?"

Riza felt her stomach clench in disappointment and despair. "Is she… your girlfriend?"

He gave a throaty chuckle and turned his head slightly to kiss her thigh where his head had been laying. "I would very much like her to be," he said, flicking his tongue out to run along her skin.

"Roy," Riza began, but she stopped short when his dark gaze met hers sharply in the dimly lit room.

Once her protest was firmly overruled, he returned to his task of working his way up her nightgown. "Riza-chan," he said huskily as he pushed her legs apart, "Elizabeth is you."


End file.
